


ignorance and impulse are a recipe for gain

by Cantabo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clueless Stiles Stilinski, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 21:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10817496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantabo/pseuds/Cantabo
Summary: “Oh my god, wearedating,” Stiles says. Scott laughs and nods.“Yeah. You’re dating Derek. You’re ina relationshipwith Derek Hale.”





	ignorance and impulse are a recipe for gain

**Author's Note:**

> So, just as a heads up. There is some talk about religion in the very beginning of this. This by no means is an attempt or action to slander _any_ religion. I hope it is understood that this in no way is meant to be offensive or meant to belittle any type of faith, and was included specifically because I felt it was necessary to the introduction of this story.
> 
> On a lighter note: I have more of this universe written, but after the point I ended this on it got very cheesy and cliche (which I love, but it wasn't in the same tone as this part); so I have only posted the first section. If anyone is interested in reading the rest, leave a comment and let me know; I might post it as a second chapter.
> 
> Also: Stiles is 17/18 in this, and I have purposely left it vague as a way of avoiding any sort of audience discomfort with an underage relationship.

Stiles has never given much thought to religion or god. He’s not exactly the type to delve deep into his spirituality at all, honestly. He has, however, put a lot of thought into the concept of heaven, and all its religious equivalents.

Heaven always seemed lazy, to Stiles. Not the notion of having faith, because credit to those who do, it's awesome. Lazy in the sense that heaven offers you a second chance to do everything, a way out from the unpleasantness that life can bring. 

It feels like an incentive program. It feels like the only reason some people do anything is because they're hoping to come out on top in some sort of convoluted religious reward system.    
It seems like such a waste of life, banking on having that second chance. People live for the future, but never enjoy anything that they have at the moment. 

So Stiles doesn't believe in any sort of afterlife on principle. Even if it is there, he doesn’t want to live with the knowledge that it is, because then he isn't making the most of what he has now. That's always seemed like the point of everything. Making the most of life and whatnot. 

If Stiles isn't making the most of his life, isn't happy or doing what he loves, he's wasting it. He can't let himself believe in do-overs, because then he won't be able to get into the mentality that his life is important and his decisions are important. 

He needs the knowledge that this is all he gets, so that he can live as much as possible. 

Maybe that's why he does it. He has no thought in his mind other than  _ fuck it _ . 

He kisses Derek, because, why not? 

Why waste the chance? Why not act on impulse when any second a werewolf could crash through the wall, or fucking ghouls could show up, or a coven could blow through town  _ again _ ?

To be fair, Derek handles it better than Stiles would have assumed. He doesn’t get punched in the face, for one. 

Derek does, however, push him off after a few seconds of shock.

“Stiles, what the hell? Why did you do that?”

Stiles stands there, several feet away from Derek, and asks himself the same question. He doesn’t know why the fuck he did that, but he did, because he wanted to. Maybe it’s just adrenaline, or some deep and all consuming loneliness that has slowly crippled his ability to think. 

“I don’t know, Derek. Why not?”

Derek’s eye visibly twitches. “No, not  _ why not? _ , I need an actual answer.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, wincing at the cut on the part of his shoulder that meets his neck. Derek stands there, unimpressed. He’s covered in troll guts and muddy clumps of dirt and blood, and he doesn’t even seem to notice. Stiles briefly wonders if Derek’s covered in things of the supernatural nature so often that he no longer cares.

“I wanted to,” Stiles says at last. Derek stares at him, his face unreadable. Stiles squirms under the scrutiny, but doesn’t look away.

“You wanted to,” Derek finally says, repeating Stiles’ words in a flat tone. Stiles shrugs again, making an exaggerated face that usually means  _ why the fuck not? _ . Derek is unimpressed with his miming skills.

“I need an actual explanation, here,” Derek snaps impatiently, like they didn’t just fucking kill a troll in the middle of the forest without any actual backup or forethought. (Somewhere, Deaton is crying and doesn’t yet know why.) Stiles rolls his eyes, irritated at how obtuse Derek is being.

“I wanted to, that’s my explanation. I looked at you and my brain said  _ that, I want to kiss that.  _ Then my body conferred with my brain and came to the solid agreement of  _ yes, kissing that is a good plan _ . And now here we are, covered in troll insides and blood, talking the situation into an early grave.”

Derek stared at him in bewildered confusion. 

“That’s it?”

Stiles nods again, “pretty much, yeah.”

Derek stares at Stiles some more, and then nods. 

He turns around, heading back in the direction they came from, toward the Hale house. Stiles stands there, confused, until Derek calls out a humored, “you going to stay there all night?”.

Stiles walks as fast and his legs will let him with his knee all cut up.

-

When Derek rebuilt the Hale house, he had the pack put a lot of thought into how to best renovate it for their needs. With lots of contribution from Stiles and Lydia on practical needs, and a ridiculous suggestion from Erica to put in a Rumpus Room (which Derek actually  _ listened _ to,  _ what the fuck _ ), The house was rebuilt in a remarkably quick time over the summer before their junior year.

Since then, there’s always someone lurking around the property, Isaac and Boyd live there, and Stiles is over on a shockingly regular basis. Allison and sometimes Jackson will run through the property. Erica and  _ Jackson _ (which, their friendship was the most unexpected thing to happen since the Kanima) built a treehouse somewhere and refuse to tell anyone where they made it. Scott comes whenever it’s convenient, and Lydia shows up around once a week to dig through Derek’s supernatural library, or to question him to the brink of exhaustion about ancient lore. Danny will even show up and do  _ something _ to Derek’s computer, but no one has ever questioned it.

Surprisingly, however, the house is empty. It’s a Friday, and it’s almost midnight, so technically, Saturday. Derek doesn’t seem bothered by it, but Stiles sure is.

“Where is everyone?” Stiles asks.

“Isaac is at Scott’s, Boyd is at Erica’s, Jackson is probably at Lydia’s,” He says, taking his shirt off and stepping under the outdoor shower on the side of the house that had been built after Lydia mentioned how often they’re all covered in blood.

Stiles nods, saying nothing as he steps under the other shower head, fully clothed. Derek raises an eyebrow, but Stiles just shrugs. He’s learned to keep spare clothes in his car.

Once his clothes are free of grime, he heads to the jeep, pulling out the duffel in his backseat and heading inside. He’s dripping water everywhere, but all he has to do is grab a mop after he changes. 

He just decides to go right to the laundry room, stripping, and changing. He throws his clothes in the drier and grabs the mop.

Ten minutes later, Derek trudges down the stairs in soft looking sweatpants and a shirt that has a faded Beacon Hills logo on it and definitely belongs to Boyd. Stiles is on the couch, digging through Netflix when Derek comes downstairs. He raises an eyebrow at Stiles’ form sprawled out, half on the couch half on the floor, but says nothing, sitting next to Stiles.

“We’re watching Heathers,” Stiles says, no room for argument. Derek snorts a laugh but doesn’t look like he minds. 

Twenty minutes into the movie, Derek breaks the silence.

“Do you still want to?” He asks, voice quiet and vulnerable.

Stiles looks at him, an eyebrow raised. “Do I still want to what?”

Derek stares at him until it clicks in Stiles’ brain.

“Oh! Well, dude, kind of always? I mean you’re a lot better at the whole ‘not being a sourwolf’ thing and you’d probably still look stupid hot in a clown suit, and just... you know, it’s you, so…”

Derek stares at him, eyebrows pulled together. Stiles stares back, blank with confusion. 

And then Derek kisses him. 

Stiles is the one in shock this time. He lays there as Derek leans over him, and he can smell his shampoo and laundry detergent, and it’s so weird to have a cuddly soft Derek kissing him that his brain reboots. 

Derek pulls back, looking embarrassed, and no, no no no, Stiles just can’t have him look like that.

“No, hang on,” Stiles mumbles. He sits up awkwardly from his position and moves so he’s on Derek’s lap. 

Derek stares up at him, and it cracks all of Stiles’ hesitation.

Stiles kisses him again, and this time Derek kisses back. And just. Holy God. It’s life changing. 

Life. 

Changing.

Derek kisses like he’s trying to prove a point, determined and focused and precise. He puts his hands on Stiles hips and holds him, moving him every once and awhile. Stiles can’t help the embarrassing noises coming out of his throat, but Derek doesn’t seem to mind. 

After who the hell knows how long, Stiles pulls back. 

“Wait, wait, hang on a sec.”

Derek’s expression drops in defeat and his hands loosen, and no. No.

“Don’t get all misty-eyed. I just… Is this a thing?” Stiles asks, hand running through Derek’s (soft) hair.

Derek stares at him for a second, and then pulls him back, kissing him and slipping a hand underneath the waistband of Stiles’ pants.

_ Oh, yeah, _ Stiles thinks, moaning.  _ It’s a thing. _

-

Through the years, Stiles has gone through an evolution. His crush on Lydia melted into a strong friendship, and their friendship is just as strong as the one Stiles has with Scott. He grew his hair out, and finally learned how to make it not look like a knotted bush.

He told his dad about the werewolves, after discussing it at length with the pack. Halfway through his first semester as a junior, they all sat his father down and laid down all the fucked up supernatural shit that happens in Beacon Hills.

His dad wasn’t thrilled (what an understatement), but he eventually got used to it.

He did, however, insist that if Stiles was going to quite literally run with wolves, he should be able to hold his own. So, his dad made him do the training with all the recruits at the Police Academy. 

Twice.

It was a bitch to deal with, but Stiles will begrudgingly admit that it’s helped more than a few times (and they are never talking about the Goblin Thing. They all swore).

Also, Stiles got tall. Really tall. He’s the tallest of their friends (even an inch taller than Isaac, who also shot up like a weed). He’s three inches taller than Derek, and he forgets it until moments like this.

Stiles wakes up with Derek’s head under Stiles’ chin, which should be odd, but Derek smells like lavender (and that should be hilarious but it reminds him of his mom and just makes Stiles feel soft inside). Stiles has a leg wrapped around Derek’s hip, and a hand possessively slung over Derek’s back. 

It’s the weirdest fucking position, but it’s not all that uncomfortable. Stiles groans when he feels his phone next to his head, vibrating annoyingly.

He grabs it, blinking sleepily at the text from his dad.

_ Are you at Derek’s?  _

_ Yeah, sorry I didn’t let you know, got caught up trying to figure out how to deal with a troll.  _ He texts back. Sometimes, what his dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

What even is his life?

_ I can’t believe this is my life.  _ His dad says, and Stiles can’t help but agree with that sentiment.

_ Next time, please leave a note or text, just so I know.  _ His dad says in another message.

_ Will do, sorry again. Be home in an hour.  _ His dad sent back an affirmative, and Stiles looks down at Derek. He’s not asleep anymore, but he’s laying there so still he might as well be.

“Hey, I gotta leave in a little bit. I promised my dad we’d watch the Kill Bill set,” Stiles says, his hand coming up to run through Derek’s hair.

Derek makes a soft noise, and shoves his face back into Stiles neck. Stiles snorts at him. Derek is the worst morning person, ever.

“You going to make it, sourwolf?” 

“No.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Oh well, guess I’ll just go. I was hoping for morning blowjobs, but I guess…” Stiles trails off, moving to sit up. Derek full on growls, and yanks him back down. Stiles laughs and lets himself be manhandled.

Derek pins him down with an arm over his stomach and, without any bullshit, takes Stiles in his mouth. Stiles has been half hard when he woke up, his dick vaguely interested, but Stiles gets hard so fast now that it’s almost painful.

He groans, letting his head thump back against the headboard. It should hurt, but in all honesty it only spurs him on. 

Derek looks up at him, his eyes crinkling in mischief, and before Stiles can even ask what he’s doing Derek sneaks his hand underneath Stiles and presses his thumb to Stiles’ hole.

“Derek, you’re going to kill me,” Stiles whines as Derek’s hot mouth moves up and down, sucking his brain out through his dick.

He pops off to make a cheeky grin. “What a way to go.”

“Jokes, jokes. You’re- ohh, yeah like that- you’re quite the comedian today,” Stiles gets out, and Derek’s only response is to sink his mouth all the way down Stiles and then look up at him, pupils blown wide. Stiles moans as he feels his stomach coil, and he grabs Derek’s hair and pulls.

Derek’s thumb pushes in slightly, and it reminds Stiles of what they did last night (once on the couch and once in the bed, and Stiles has  _ plans _ on where else it’s going to happen.  _ Plans _ ). He comes embarrassingly quick, holding onto Derek’s hair and moaning, and Stiles definitely thinks he could die at this moment and be fairly content.

Derek works him through until he’s too sensitive, and pulls off when Stiles starts gently tapping his cheek. 

Stiles offers to reciprocate, but Derek shakes his head. He moves to sit on Stiles lap and takes himself in his hand. Stiles groans, because the sight of that is almost too much to handle. He pushes Derek’s hand out of the way, anyhow, and guides him over the edge with firm, even strokes. Derek paints his chest with come, and Stiles is offended for half a second, before Derek leans down and licks it off his chest.

He’s back home in an hour and a half, but thankfully his dad doesn’t mention it. 

-

Monday morning is a new kind of beast. It’s his own fault for staying up until 3 in the morning playing games with Scott. Either way, Stiles is not dealing with this morning well, at all.

He showers with his eyes closed, accidentally washing his body with shampoo. He throws on whatever he finds on his floor and clambers down the stairs. He stands in his kitchen and debates making breakfast. 

He pulls out bread to make toast, but after staring at the toaster for a solid minute and finding no energy in himself to wait for it to toast his bread, he gives up.

He’s walking out of his house with both slices hanging from his mouth, eyes barely open as he locks the door behind him. 

He’s walking to his jeep with his eyes closed, when he bumps into something. 

Stiles stands there for a second, confused, and tries to walk forward again, only to run into it again. He gives up and cracks an eye open, surprised to see Derek in front of him.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Derek says, sounding amused. Stiles scrunches his face, confused and exhausted.

“Muh?” He says around the bread in his mouth.

“Yes, muh,” Derek says, laughing. Stiles tries to push him, but instead his hand just lands on Derek’s shoulder and he gives up.

“Why are you eating bread for breakfast?” Derek asks, amused. 

What a shit.

Stiles pulls the bread out of his mouth to explain. “I tried to make toast, but I was too tired.”

Derek snorts, and takes the bread out of Stiles hand, throwing it in the yard.

“Hey!”

“The birds will eat it. I got you a surprise,” Derek says, a smile on his face.

“You’re too happy and I don’t enjoy that right now,” Stiles says, eyes narrowed.

Derek rolls his eyes, and moves to the left enough so that Stiles can see the cups of coffee and muffins resting on the hood of the Camero. Stiles thinks his eyes might have hearts in them.

“Did you honestly bring me breakfast?” Stiles asks, looking at Derek in awe.

“Well, I had to go explain to your dad why there were partially dissolved troll bones in the woods, and help him make up something half believable. I got out a little while ago, and decided to be a good person... for once,” Derek says, shrugging.

“Oh my god, I could kiss you right now,” Stiles says, and then stops, because he totally can.

So he does.

He leans down, shoving a hand in Derek’s hair and biting on his lower lip, so fucking happy that Derek would bring him food. Derek kisses back, although much more gentle than Stiles is currently kissing him. He’s the one to pull away first, but Stiles chases him, giving his lips a quick, chaste kiss.

“I know you don’t like sugar in your coffee, so I hope this works,” He says, handing Stiles the cup. He takes a sip and cringes.

“Ugh, I think this one is yours, it tastes like marshmallows,” He says, grumbling. Derek huffs a laugh and hands him the other cup. Stiles apprehensively takes a sip.

“Much better. I hope you know that you having a sweet tooth is the oddest thing I’ve ever learned about you.”

“What about the fact that you talk to any animal you see? One time you pulled over to pet a cat,” Derek says, thoroughly amused. 

“Don’t mock my idiosyncrasies, okay? I am a gift,” Stiles insists, feeling more awake after sipping his coffee and the being in the presence of Derek.

“I know,” Derek says, voice fond.

Stiles has to kiss him again, for that.

-

Stiles spends the whole day on top of the world. He freaks out the entire pack with his energy and enthusiasm. Harris yells at him for smiling in AP Chemistry. 

After school, he has a plan. He texts his dad to let him know he’s having dinner at Derek’s, gets back an affirmative and a really half-assed, vague threat about what will happen to him if he doesn’t get home on time tonight.

He runs by the grocery store, picking up some meat, premade broth and veggies, and heads to Derek’s, fully intent on cooking him dinner to make up for the breakfast.

Derek is standing on the porch, in jeans and a sweater (a  _ sweater! _ ). His face is contorted in confusion as to why Stiles is there.

“Stiles, why-”

“Shut up. I’m making you dinner, You have no choice,” Stiles says, walking past him with the paper bag in his arms. Derek stands on the porch as Stiles kicks the door open and makes himself at home in the kitchen.

Derek hovers awkwardly in the kitchen while Stiles cooks, and since Derek is unlikely to start a conversation, Stiles regales him of his middle school detentions.

“It was total bullshit. I still have no idea why Mrs. Juarez was so mad about it, it was just a joke,” Stiles says, stirring the stew in the pot and double checking the recipe on his phone simultaneously.

“Maybe because you pretended to shove a pencil in your ear and then squirted fake blood everywhere?” Derek says, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“I don’t enjoy this newfound sense of humor you’ve picked up,” Stiles shoots at him, but he’s smiling, so Derek just rolls his eyes and moves to stand next to Stiles.

“How much longer until it’s done?” Derek asks. Stiles looks down into the pot for a minute, poking a potato with the spoon and feeling that it’s still pretty hard.

“Uhh, I’d say like 45 minutes. Why?” 

Derek says nothing, but puts his hands on Stiles hips and turns him around. Stiles smiles, leaning forward to kiss Derek, who kisses him back with enthusiasm.

It occurs to Stiles that this is a weird thing going between him and Derek, even though over the years they’ve become friends and work well together. Stiles supposes this has been coming for a while, but he can’t believe how much he likes it. Derek’s hands on him feels completely natural, and Stiles trusts him with his life.

Wrapping his arms around Derek’s massive shoulders, he moans and decides to stop thinking and enjoy himself.

-

Isaac texts Stiles as he’s walking through his front door on Friday.

_ Derek’s sulking. Fix it. _ Stiles sighs and immediately turns around, heading right back out and to his jeep.

Ten minutes later, Stiles is parking the jeep outside of the Hale House, confused. Boyd and Isaac’s cars are gone, and all of the lights are off. Stiles uses the key Derek gave him a year ago to unlock the door, and it looks like no one’s been here for days.

“Derek?” Stiles calls, but he doesn’t get an answer.

He heads into the living room, and sees a foot hanging off of the couch. 

Derek is there, head buried in the cushions and feet hanging haphazardly off the other arm. He’s in pajama pants and a ratty long sleeve shirt.

“Derek, what’s wrong?” Stiles asks, kneeling down next to him. Derek sniffs, but doesn’t move. Stiles rolls his eyes, and decides to comfort Derek the old fashioned way.

He pushes the coffee table all the way across the room and comes back, pulling Derek off the couch by one of his arms and the waistband of his pants, dumping him on the floor. 

“Stiles, go away,” Derek grumbles. He sounds muted, sort of broken, and it breaks Stiles heart. He doesn’t know what’s happened, but it can’t be good. He knows it isn’t the anniversary of the fire, or Laura’s birthday, and those are usually the two things that get him down the most.

“No.” Stiles pulls all of the sofa cushions off of the couch, and yanks a blanket off of the armchair nearby, and fashions a half assed pillow fort around them.

Derek sighs, but rolls onto his side, facing Stiles. Stiles takes that as a cue to cuddle up to him, tucking Derek’s head under his chin and letting Derek octopus around him.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Stiles says, gently massaging Derek’s neck. Derek is silent for the longest time, but Stiles is patient as fuck (when he wants to be, okay?). 

“Cora’s going to stay in South America.”

Stiles says nothing, but does lean down to put his cheek on top of Derek’s head. He doesn’t know how to comfort Derek in a way that wouldn’t be upsetting or condescending, so he talks about his mom.

“When I was a kid, I had a hard time making friends before I met Scott. I got super upset one year that no one came to my birthday party, so my mom and I built a pillow fort, and we spent the whole day watching The X-Files,” Stiles says.

Derek snorts, and a hand snakes over his back to stick himself to Stiles. 

“One time, my mom and I spent the whole day making our own language. We made my dad cry during dinner one time because we would only speak Gooblese.”

“I am not surprised your father has wept over how frustrating you are.”

“My mom was amazing. She was totally my partner in crime, you know? I mean Scott is great, and so is Lydia, but both of them sort of just let me come up with the crazy schemes, and my mom was always the one to best me. I’d want to build a fort in the backyard and she’d end up talking me into digging a system of underground tunnels.”

“Tunnels?”

“Tunnels. Unfortunately, we realized that a woman in her early thirties and a seven year old weren’t really equipped to properly construct those.”

“She sounds like a bigger version of you.” Derek is giving Stiles a small smile, and Stiles returns it, tinged with sadness.

“I miss her.”

“I know,” Derek says, and his grip tightens on Stiles.

“Cora will come visit, Derek. She’s too much like you, and loves you too much, to not come visit. Even if she doesn’t live here, she’s not going to ignore you. I know she calls you twice a month, I’ve read your phone bills.”

“That’s illegal, Stiles.”

“Do you really want to debate the breaking of laws, Mr. I-don’t-believe-in-front-doors?”

Derek’s silence is telling.

“Okay, you’re right,” He sighs.

“Invite her for Easter. It’s in a month, and I bet she’d come. You can even kick out Isaac and Boyd and bond over your mutual love of empty threats and dark color schemes,” Stiles says, poking Derek in the ribs gently.

“I… hadn’t thought of that. I’ll call her tomorrow,” Derek says.

“Just because she doesn’t want to live here doesn’t mean you won’t see her.” Stiles runs a hand through Derek’s hair, and receives the softest kiss to his collarbone. It’s a thank you, a silent acknowledgement, and Stiles can’t help but smile at the feeling that blooms in his chest.

-

_ Stiles, stop playing Angry Birds. _

Stiles rolls his eyes and scans the crowd, eventually finding Derek sitting next to his Dad in the stands. Dad is glaring at him, and Derek looks like he’s going to roll his eyes so hard they might actually tip out of his head. 

_ I’m bored, what else am I supposed to do? _

_ Maybe pay attention? It’s your graduation. _

Stiles looks up and pockets his phone when he sees the look on Dad’s face. It’s the one that promises swift and achingly boring punishment.

After Sties has awkwardly received his diploma and made a sarcastic and not-so-well received Salutatorian speech, he’s walking through the crowds, searching for Dad and Derek. 

They’re huddled up with Melissa, Erica’s mom, and Lydia’s parents. They’re all politely talking and laughing at jokes that he’s sure aren’t even really jokes. It’s pretty awkward, and Derek looks like he wants to literally haul ass and run in the other direction.

“Stiles!” Dad says, stepping away from everyone to hug Stiles, who hugs back just as eagerly. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you, dog jokes in your speech aside.

“Hey, those were hilarious and you know it!” Stiles says, jabbing a finger into his dad’s shoulder.

“Despite being salutatorian, it is unfortunate you never learned the definition of the word  _ hilarious _ ,” Lydia quips, coming up behind them to give Stiles a half hug. Stiles grins and hugs her back and pulls in Jackson when he gets too close. Despite his bitching, Stiles knows he secretly enjoys it.

“Whatever, you love all my jokes,” Stiles says, pulling away and pointing at them. They all good naturedly roll their eyes and ignore Stiles as he moves towards Derek.

Derek is stiffer than he usually is, and Stiles is wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss without even thinking about it. To Derek’s credit, he kisses back almost immediately, and they manage to keep it PG enough that no one starts yelling or booing, so it’s a win all around.

“And on that note, let’s head out to dinner!” Stiles’ Dad says, ushering everyone towards to parking lot.

-

A week later, his dad is going out of town to a conference in Santa Barbara, and he took Ms. McCall with him, which both grosses Scott and Stiles out but also makes them happy for their parents. Scott is supposed to stay at Stiles’ for the weekend, but they both agreed to hang out for a couple hours and then split up, Scott going home and Allison going over there, and Stiles going to Derek’s with a new bottle of lube and a family-sized bag of doritos.

They’re in the middle of Halo 3 (which is a classic that can never die), when Scott brings up Derek.

“So, are you guys like… dating?” 

Stiles sputters, scoffing. “Dude, what? No, we’re just… We’re…” Stiles trails off. What are they?

“You’re just fucking. But you’re also sleeping over, having dinner together, comforting one another, spending free time together, and fighting monsters on your own,” Scott unhelpfully points out. 

“Yeah, but that’s not dating, that’s just…” Stiles says, but stops, because when Scott lays it out on the table like that, it’s sort of a red flag. His heart makes a weird lurch in his chest.

“It’s just you two… dating,” Scott says with a cheeky grin. Stiles presses pause and turns to look at Scott.

“Oh my god, we  _ are _ dating,” He says. Scott laughs and nods.

“Yeah. You’re dating Derek. You’re in  _ a relationship _ with Derek Hale.”

-

“Did you know we were in a relationship?” Stiles demands the second Derek opens the door.

Derek, to his credit, takes this fairly well.

“Um… yes? Did  _ you _ know we were in a relationship?” Derek asks, moving to the side as Stiles shoves past him, storming into the living room. 

Erica and Jackson are laying on top of each other and watching some movie with Melissa McCarthy and Sandra Bullock. 

“Out,” Stiles snaps at them, pointing to the door behind him. Erica and Jackson take one look at Stiles and Derek and clamber off the couch, heading out the door. 

“Was that really necessary?” Derek asks, coming to stand behind Stiles.

“Yes that was necessary. How the fuck did I not know we’ve been dating for eight months?”

“Because you’re the idiot in this relationship,” Derek snarks, but there’s a smile on his face. He sits down on the couch and pulls Stiles with him. Stiles immediately curls up to his side and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder.

In retrospect, maybe Stiles is kind of an idiot.

“I got a 2350 on my SATs,” Stiles huffs.

Derek snorts a laugh. “You’re still an idiot.” He says, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. There’s a burning sensation in Stiles’ belly, and maybe all of this should have been obvious from the beginning. 

“Everything we’ve been doing I’ve just been doing because I wanted to. I guess I didn’t even question it. It feels right,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s neck.

Derek is still for a minute, and then reaches over, maneuvering Stiles so that he’s laying next to Derek, his back pressed against the back of the couch and his front pressed to Derek’s.

“It does feel right.”

Derek kisses Stiles, and he feels so overwhelmed with everything that he thinks he might actually break into teeny, tiny pieces. 

He doesn’t know how to say what he’s feeling, so he grips onto Derek tighter, unsure of what else to do. Maybe that’s all he really has to do.


End file.
